


The Birthday Present

by MadHattersPet



Category: Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:59:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHattersPet/pseuds/MadHattersPet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Salieri hated his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birthday Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Shiva_Adler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Shiva_Adler/gifts).



Salieri hated his birthday.  Hated it with a passion.  People could never leave well enough alone, they always had to make a big deal of things.  Salieri preferred to celebrate quietly with family; ever since his adoptive father had died though, Rosenberg had taken over the celebration.  Rosenberg always threw a large party full of nobles and Salieri always ended up going home with a headache.  This time there was an added disappointment: the only person Salieri wanted to see wasn’t there.  He was always everywhere, even at parties to which he wasn’t invited.  However, there had been no sign of him.

By the time he returned home, Salieri was ready to fall into bed and forget that the day had ever happened.  He thanked his driver, and stepped out of the coach.  Each step reminded him of how much he wanted to sleep and by the time he opened his front door, Salieri was almost sleepwalking. In that state, he almost missed the dash of red on the table by the front door. 

Frowning, Salieri gently picked up the rose, dipping his head to smell it.  It had bloomed recently, possibly even that day.  Another inhale and the scent settled into his lungs.  His fingers brushed some parchment, someone had tied a note to the rose.

“ _Welcome home.  Come upstairs.”_

Salieri knew that handwriting, he grinned, relaxing as he realized his lover had not forgotten him after all.  He smiled as he started up the stairs, noticing flashes of red and pink on the stairs.  Apparently, his lover had scattered more rose petals, scenting the air.

At the top of the stairs, Salieri turned and pushed open the door to his room.  Dozens of candles had been lit, giving the room a soft yellow glow.  There were more roses in vases around the room, and Salieri’s lover was reclining on the bed, clothed in a loose white shirt and plain black breaches.  It was a simple outfit, but one that he knew Salieri loved.

“You’re back.”

“I am,” Salieri sat gently on the bed next to him, “I wondered where you were.”

His lover leaned forward and rested his forehead on Salieri’s shoulder, “Rosenberg hates it when I crash his parties, besides,” he planted a kiss on Salieri’s neck, just above his collar, “I couldn’t celebrate with you properly in public, Antonio.”

“Fair enough,” Salieri allowed him to lean back into the warm body behind him as fingers began to work at the tense muscles in his neck.

“You’re all tense,” his love murmured, “Let me undress you?”

Salieri nodded, allowing those clever hands to untie his cravat and to unbutton his vest and shirt and slide them off.  When he was shirtless, Salieri caught one of those hands and kissed it, caressing it and pressing it to his cheek.

They sat like that for a moment, basking in their togetherness.  It was rare for the two composers to get time like this; quiet, slow, with no rush, no hurry to finish a piece.  There was no one present to see them, to judge the way they touched, the way they loved.  When they had the time, they savored it.

The moment lengthened, and then his lover brushed aside Saleiri’s hair and planted a kiss on his exposed neck, “Lie down for me, Toni.”

A deep sense of peace overwhelmed Antonio Salieri as he let his lover’s hands guide him to lie down on his stomach.   He watched, arms crossed under his head for support, as the other moved towards the bedside table where a bottle was sitting in a small bowl of water.

“What is that?”

“Oil, I’m going to give you a massage.”

“Oh?  And where did you learn that?”

His lover replied with a smirk and slid back onto the bed, shifting to hover over Salieri, straddling the Italian’s waist.

The first touch of the oil was warm on his skin, spreading over his shoulders guided by hands slightly roughened by years of playing instruments. Those wonderful hands dug into his shoulders, pressing against tense muscles and working them loose.   Salieri melted into the bed, giving all of his attention to his lovers touch as it pressed and stroked, and eased all the aches in his back.

Salieri allowed himself to loosen up making little sounds as his lover’s touch turned sensual, brushing lightly up and down his spine and sending shivers throughout his body.  He felt the bed shift as the other leaned forward to press a kiss against his neck.  Impatient, Salieri turned his head, catching his lover’s lips and turning to grip his hair.  It was wonderful and smoothed out the last few rough edges left in him after the party.

Suddenly there was pressure against his hands as his other half pulled back, smirking as Salieri made a frustrated sound, “Get back here, you’ve been away from me all week.”

“Don’t you want your present first?”

Salieri tilted his head, “Present?”

“Of course.”

“I thought the massage was my present.”

“No my love, that was just to help ground you here, with me.”

Salieri pressed their foreheads together for a moment, silently thanking this beautiful angel who, despite everything that had happened in their past, loved him.

“I’d love to have my present then,” they shifted around on the bed, Salieri sitting up against the headboard while his lover grabbed something else off his bedside table.  “I love that you feel so comfortable in my house.”

That earned him a quick kiss, “Thank you for welcoming me into your house and your love, Antonio.”  Something in a silk bag was pressed into his hands.

Salieri opened the bag and a long, black case fell into his hands.  Opening that revealed a silver conductor’s baton.  He picked it up out of its case to examine it and found it inscribed with the words “Que mes bises deviennent ta prison”.

The Italian felt his throat close down.   “La mia altra metà,” he choked out, falling into his native language as he tried to clamp down on the tears. 

“You like it?” there was hesitation in his lovers voice, the lingering worry that he’d never been able to shake that Salieri would get fed up with him someday and leave.

“It will be the thing that is most precious to me, as you are the person most precious to me,” Salieri placed the baton back in the case and the case back in the bag.  He carefully put the present back on the table, and then he turned back to his lover.  “My angel,” he cradled the other’s face in his hands, “You have saved me so many times.”

“No, my love, it is you who have saved me.  You keep me grounded; you have been there for so much, given me so much.  I only hope I can give some small measure back”

Deciding that words were not enough to get it through his lover’s thick head, Salieri pulled him closer and kissed him slowly, savoring the closeness and the love.

He broke away, trailing down his lover’s neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin, delighting in the full body shiver that elicited.  “Antonio,” he loved the breathless way his angel murmured his name.  He loved how easily and openly the other man displayed his pleasure.

Their love was addicting.  It slid its way into their hearts and imprinted onto their souls, gentled and calmed them.  When they came together it was almost overwhelming, the pleasure almost too much. 

Salieri took his time working his way down his lover’s body, sliding the last of their clothing off so they could be skin to skin.  He let himself fall back onto his back, dragging the other on top of him.

“Like this tonight.”

“Are you sure, Antonio?”

It would be the first time that Salieri had taken the bottom role, but he was sure.  He wanted things to be like this.  Tonight felt special and sacred.

“I’m very sure.”

His lover kissed him, and then reached for the oil one more time.

“Can we use that for--?”

“Of course, I made sure of that,” there was that smirk that Antonio loved so well.  His angel was capable of the most filthy facial expressions, ones that showed very clearly how thoroughly he’d thought through every aspect of tonight. 

Salieri nodded, silently giving himself over to the other’s expert hands.  Hands that had always been a fascination for him, from the first time he’d seen them conducting.  Hands that were now opening him up, pressing against places inside of him that sent liquid heat running through his body.  He breathed slowly through the initial pressure and slight pain, watching his angel’s face.  Oh, it was beautiful, brown eyes full of light and love, lips slightly parted to draw in shaking breaths.  And then it was done, their foreheads resting together.  Salieri let himself bask in the quiet moment, appreciating the fullness, the way his lover managed to completely surround him, despite his smaller size. 

“Ready?”

“Always.”

A slow, maddening pace, designed to draw this night out for as long as possible, over and over they came together only to pull apart once again.  It was gentle, so much more gentle than they had been in the beginning, when Salieri had hated himself for his feelings and hated the man that evoked them.  Back when the face he now treasured looked at him with disdain, seeing only another guardian of the common good. 

Orgasm came upon them gently, sweeping Salieri away as he clutched at pale shoulders. His angel collapsed on top of him, still pressing kisses up and down his neck. With a shaking hand, Salieri pushed a lock of hair away from his ear and whispered, “I love you, Wolfgang.”

“I love you too, Antonio.”


End file.
